Comfort
by ThoughtCriminal
Summary: Another Trench fic. Takes place after ODW and contains major spoilers for that book. Rachel is mourning the loss of yet another friend, and our favorite elf turns out to be a source of much needed comfort.
1. Grief

Warning! Beware! Caution! ODW Spoilers!

**Beyond This Place There Be Major Spoilers**

Takes place an indefinite time after ODW

Title: Comfort

Trent/Rachel fic

Rated M for a reason honey bunnies, just give me some time to get you there…

Much love to KarasuK, your awesome Trench fic totally inspired me to try my hand at a longer Trench story.

The sun was still warm on my shoulders but the air was becoming crisp as evening shifted towards night and the shadows lengthened to smother the remainders of the day. I sighed and tucked a stray curl behind my ear, estimating I still had another twenty minutes or so of sunlight. Eden Park was beautiful in the setting sun, the stillness of coming night coupled with the light dazzling on the pond's surface; the woodsy smell of the scattered groves of trees and the sharp whiff of freshly mown grass tickled my nose. There were two young children still trying to get a kite up, but for all their exuberance they couldn't run fast enough to make use of the sluggish breeze. I felt the grass under my palms, warm but cooling in the setting sun, and felt slightly sick at the thought of the dark, wet earth underneath. He wasn't in the ground yet, but he would be, and grass like this would cover-up any trace he had been there. I drew my knees up to my chest, trying to ignore the cold in me that the sun couldn't seem to touch today. The light scintillating on the pond's surface like a crystal web fragmented then shattered when the moisture rose in my eyes. I closed them against the brightness, unable to fight the tears any longer.

I still wasn't completely sure how it had happened. But it was my fault, like most things. He came to Cincinnati, and I wasn't arrogant enough to think he had come only for me, but I'd definitely been a factor in his decision. Really, he couldn't have stayed in Michigan after what the Weres did to his business. Maybe he thought I could protect him, but he thought wrong. I had failed. What was it all for if I couldn't even protect my friends?

The chill in my chest was growing, expanding and with a sharp, bitter bite that made me wrap my arms wrap around myself all the tighter. I felt the sobs in my chest, but those at least I could stop. I moved one hand up to my mouth and let my own flesh stop the small, pathetic sounds that were welling up inside me.

I didn't want to go back home. Jenks was with Matalina; she still wasn't feeling her best and I couldn't tear him away from his wife and kids to comfort poor, worthless me. And Ivy wasn't due back home for another week. I recalled our last phone conversation and felt even sicker with longing. I hadn't told her what had happened. I didn't want to ruin her vacation, her chance at happiness with a man she respected, maybe even loved. I shook off my thoughts about Cormel; I wasn't that taken by him, but I didn't want my distrust to contaminate Ivy's affection for him. If things were back to normal at our church, then I could face it, go back home if I knew Jenks and Ivy were there, I could fix some hot cocoa and collapse into bed. But alone I didn't think I could stand it. We hadn't been serious; it was still too soon after Kisten. But he had been a friend and possibly, when we both were able to move on from our past relationships, he could have been more than a friend. For such a short time knowing him, his presence was too thick at the church. The couch where we had eaten our take-out and watched Kung-Fu marathons, the garden where he had helped me thin the new seedlings despite Jenks's disgust at our gardening skills, the scuffed floor in the hallway where we had gotten into an impromptu wrestling match. The thought of being near all these places caught my breath, jagged and desperate in my chest. It was just too soon to add another ghost to the church while Kisten's presence still lingered like the smell of cigarette smoke on his pool table.

I wiped at my eyes, only blurring my vision more. The kids were walking dejectedly towards a calling figure, their kite, just a yellow colored blob to me, trailing behind them in the grass, broken and useless.

God, I wish Ivy were home. Just having her there would somehow magically make it all seem more bearable. I thought about calling her, but it would be far too early in the morning in Europe, and I doubt she, or Cormel, would appreciate a wake-up call.

The cold retreated slightly, almost freeing my limbs just at the thought of her voice.

"_We just checked in, it's amazing here," she said, and the genuine excitement in her voice was too precious, I couldn't smoother it with my bad news._

_She paused, waiting for my response while I tried to regulate my breathing and not sob like a child into the phone._

"_Is everything okay there?" she asked._

"_It's fine," I lied, then amended, hearing her intake of breath and knowing she'd caught on to the slight tremble in my voice, "Matalina's still not feeling well. Jenks is worried, so they're all staying in my desk tonight, just incase we get a late frost."_

_"I thought the warmer weather would help?" Ivy asked, but another question was still there in her voice._

_"Better, she's better, just not a hundred percent." I felt like scum, but I knew I'd feel worse if I ruined her vacation. She needed this, a rest, a break, and a chance at something new, which I knew being with me all the time, enveloped in my fascinating and screwed up life, wouldn't give to her. _

"_Rachel?" she asked, and the genuine concern in her voice almost brought back the tears._

"_Yeah, Ivy?"_

"_Are you going to be there when I come home?" she asked quietly._

"_Yeah, of course," I said, knowing I could never lie to her about that._

"_And is the church going to be standing next week?"_

"_What? Yeah, why wouldn't…"_

"_And you won't let Jenks's kids raid my underwear drawer anymore?"_

_I laughed, even then, I couldn't help it. The days had been so bleak, and to hear her voice again…"I'll try and keep them out of your room," I promised._

"_Then I'll see you next week," she said. _

_There was a pause and I breathed easier, somehow feeling better, knowing she would come back. I'd had terrible daydreams of her calling, declaring her intent to stay abroad for weeks, or worse, months. _

"_Take care, Rachel. I…" she said, and the pause weighed heavily on my heart, this new painful suspense almost banishing the ache of loss. "I'll call you tomorrow night," she promised, and I hastily agreed, saying my goodbyes quickly so I could get off the phone and find a dark corner to cry in._

Had it really only been six hours since I'd spoken to Ivy? It felt like a lifetime. Well, it had only been this morning that I'd learned of Marshal's death, and that memory felt like it belonged in the life of a stranger. Glenn had come over, hadn't told me the details, but I could imagine. I'd seen enough that I could picture quite clearly his glazed eyes, his mangled…stop Rachel, stop thinking like this. I had kept the tears at bay in Glenn's presence, convinced him I'd be okay alone, that yeah, I know, knew, Marshal, he had been a friendly acquiescence, nothing more…Glenn probably saw through my façade, but was kind enough to pretend to believe me. Maybe I should have let him stick around, taken him up on his offer for coffee.

But somehow I had known the park was the place to come. Without Ivy and Jenks there to lift me up, the simple beauty of this place could still act as a balm for my many wounds. I remembered my dad, or the man I had thought of as my dad, would bring me here when he got in a fight with mom. It hadn't been very often, but still, this was a calming place, filled with great memories of him and me and…Trent?

I saw the elf standing on the bridge and had to blink my eyes several times to make sure it wasn't just a trick of the light. But it was really him, and he was standing nearly with his back to me, looking over the water, apparently scanning the opposite edge of the lake. I glanced around, looking for Quen or his loathsome lackey, Jonathan. But the freakishly tall bastard wasn't around, neither was Quen that I could see, but that didn't mean anything for Quen; he could be playing ninja in the trees again.

I glanced up uncertainly, then decided to just ignore it. So what if Trent was here? It could be totally unrelated. But as I watched him on the bridge, it became more and more obvious he was looking for something, or someone, probably me.

I sighed, wondering how long this would take. It had been awhile since I had seen Trent and…well, I didn't know where we stood. I had saved him, had helped bring about the hope of a resurrection for his species, I had risked everything and lost quit a bit to pull his ass out of the ever after, he had tried to strangle me, twice…It was complicated. I still remembered our conversation in the ever after, before it got real nasty. He had said some things, and as much as I wished to forget it all, I couldn't. Trent had confided in me his desire to be something more than a sleazy politician and murdering drug lord. I wanted to believe him, but…

As I watched him on the bridge, another memory came back to me. The memory of his strong arms holding me, trying to comfort me, as the imbalance from a demonic curse ripped through my entire body and aura. He had been there to help me through my pain. I dropped my eyes to the grass, preferring to look down on the soft, impersonal greens and trying not to compare it to his enchanting eyes. It was enough of a task trying to figure out how I felt about Trent, and it was impossible to do it with the aching uncertainty Marshal's death had left in me. Everything felt muddled, sharp and distant, unreal and all too brutal.

"Rachel?" said a voice I knew all too well, and I was jerked out of my reverie to stare at eyes as green as the grass, but much more beautiful, vibrant, and filled with something that appeared to be concern.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I grumbled, trying to be more difficult than I felt. Just having someone here, even Trent, maybe even especially Trent, it was better than being alone right now.

"I thought you would be here," he said simply, still standing a safe six feet away and staring down at me.

"Why did you think that?" I asked.

"You seem to like this place, it's comforting to you, and after…what happened, since you weren't at your church, this seemed the most likely spot," Trent said. I sat there in silence, looking up at him, wondering how much he knew and terrified how he knew. God, I don't think I could handle it if Trent had anything to do with Marshal's death.

"Why were you looking for me?" I asked, and the despair and loss were quickly being replaced by anger. If he had ANYTHING to do with it, I'm not sure what I'd do to him, but it wouldn't be pretty.

His eyes narrowed when he saw my hands clenching into fists, but he quickly regained his composure. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, his voice beautiful and rich despite his clipped tone.

I wanted to laugh, but knowing it would probably come out a sob I remained silent. I'm not sure what was more messed up, Trent saying he wanted to me sure I was okay or the fact he could be referring to so many different things since my life was so damn peachy keen at the moment. This year, I'd lost Kisten and nearly been bound to his murderer, found out my father was in fact not my biological father, learned I was kin to demons and could never have children unless I wanted to risk being the first demon momma in over five thousand years. And now Marshal…

"Hmm let's consider the last few months…why again wouldn't I be okay, Kalamack? " I said snidely, enjoying his apparent discomfort. Maybe Quen wasn't around either, else he'd be acting more like his usual, arrogant self.

"I was referring to the man at the skating rink, Marshal, but I can understand how the culmination of…so much distress over the months could be more upsetting than the actual events," he said carefully, his eyes holding mine. But I wasn't falling for it, he could never know how I felt, and even if he could sympathize or pretend to, that didn't explain how he knew about Marshal, and it sure as hell wouldn't excuse him if he'd had anything to do with it.

"What about Marshal ?" I asked sweetly, but the vindictive glee was quickly banished when his face turned nearly ashen under his tan and he sucked in his breath quickly.

"No one told you?" he asked quietly, and the pain and worry in his eyes was like a slap to the face.

"I know he's dead," I practically whispered, but I knew his sensitive elf hearing would catch the words. I tried to hide a shudder that rocked through me, feeling sick and cold all over again as if just saying the words had made the pain more real.

"Damn it, Rachel," he swore "that's not funny."

"You're right. It isn't," I said bitterly, but he ignored it.

"I thought I was going to have to be the one to tell you," he said angrily.

"Well, why don't you tell me how the hell you know about it?" I said, matching his anger with my own. He glanced down at me almost dismissively, and I fought the urge to jump to my feet and kick his ass. Really, he was only a few inches taller than me, and with my kick-ass-boots, we were nearly the same height. Having him standing over me like this was starting to piss me off.

"I know about everything that happens in my city, Rachel," he said coldly, and I was really ready to smack him. If Quen wasn't around, landing a hit on him was a real possibility, and even though I knew it wouldn't make me feel better about Marshal, it would be so damn satisfying. Looking up at his smug face, I thought smacking off that haughty little grin of his might almost be worth the consequences. But then I might lose out on valuable information. He was an arrogant prick, but he had a point. He knew what happened in Cincinnati as a member of the city council, but he knew even more as a drug lord and murdering bastard that played the underworld like it was his own personal chess board. And if I smacked him up, I doubt he would be very forthcoming with the details. I hadn't been able to avenge Kisten, yet. But that didn't mean I had to resign Marshal to the same fate. Sure, he hadn't been my boyfriend or lover, but he still deserved justice, and if Trent knew anything about it, then I was one step closer to tagging the bastards responsible and sending them to rot in a jail cell.

"And what do you know about Marshal's death?" I asked stoically, holding his eyes and watching carefully, waiting to read his expression and gauge the truth or lack of.

He dropped my gaze, then looked back at me quickly, his green eyes cool but with hints of emotion haunting the depths. "Rachel, don't hurt yourself over this. He wasn't your responsibility. It was not your fault," he said quietly but clearly, each word filled with a definite force. Although I hated him for evading my question and withholding information, I felt tears burning in my eyes as the beginnings of relief washed over me. It didn't matter if it was Trent; I needed to hear it from someone. I needed to believe that Marshal's death wasn't my fault.

I looked down, not wanting him to see the tears starting to spill from my eyes. I was surprised when I felt a warm hand come to rest gently on my shoulder. "Rachel," Trent said soothingly, his breath warm against my skin now that he was kneeling beside me in the grass. I kept my eyes down, uncertain what I would find now that his face was only inches from mine. I thought of the grass and mud stains on his tailored pants and it nearly brought a grin to my face. Here was Trent Kalamack, dirtying his dress clothes trying to comfort me over the death of my not-boyfriend.

"Rachel," he repeated, and I fell back into his amazing voice, letting his soft yet strong, harmonious tones fill me. My eyes might have fluttered shut for a moment, I'm not sure, but the warmth of his hand on my shoulder was suddenly more, coursing through my body, banishing the cold and hurt that Marshal's death had filled me with. As if sensing my response, he sighed lightly and rested his other hand tentatively on my waist. "It's not worth it Rachel," he whispered into my ear, and I shuddered slightly but did nothing to stop him when he pulled me closer. It was amazing; in his arms I felt safe, warm, and cared for again. I had to fight not to bury my head into his neck and breathe him in.

"Just let it go. There's nothing you can do. You're only hurting yourself by holding onto the pain," he whispered to me, one hand stroking my back in slow, rhythmic strokes.

And my anger made it all come crashing down. I jerked away from his arms, doing my best to stare a hole into his surprised face. How dare he try and tell me what I could and couldn't do. How dare he tell me to let it go, just surrender and move on. He knew nothing about it, and I told him so.

"You bastard!" I nearly shouted, slapping away the hand that tried to regain my waist. "You have no right…how dare you try and tell me what to do!" I said between gritted teeth, once again burning with the urge to hit him, and his astounded face, so conveniently close, was making it a hard urge to resist.

"Rachel…" he began, but I cut him off.

"No, you've said enough," I said, stumbling to my feet and glaring down at him. I could feel the nearly drowned ley line in the park humming weakly, but it was enough, and I tapped it without a second thought.

"You're being irrational, if you'd just…" but he shut his mouth on his own this time, sensing the power coursing through me. All the regret from the past few months came pouring back. Kisten, gone. Marshal, gone. Trent had gotten out of the ever after with his sample in one piece, but I'd learned I was kin to demons and could never have children, and even lost a chunk of my hard-earned freedom becoming Al's student. The energy from the line was waiting to lash out, warm and impatient inside me, and I stared down at his beautiful, frightened green eyes, wanting to make him just as miserable as I felt. I wanted to make him pay, to make him feel even one ounce of what I felt.

And I couldn't do it.

I fell back to the ground, my arms wrapping futilely around myself as the cold set back in. My entire body felt like one giant wound that would never heal, and the tears streamed down my cheeks faster. I couldn't stop the raw, desperate sobs that came spilling out of my mouth, shaking my entire body.

"Rachel?" he asked quietly, reaching out slowly and trying to pull me up to my feet. I didn't bother trying to keep the line's energy from jumping him, and he got a solid shock when he touched my arm, making him recoil and swear softly. He didn't back away though. He was once again kneeling next to me, but keeping his hands to himself this time as I sobbed, feeling alone and broken as the sun was finally finishing its descent and true night began to embrace the park.

"Rachel? Rachel, stop this, please," Trent said, and the uncertainty, perhaps even fear in his voice reached me. Maybe it was also the "please", but my sobs became less violent, and this time I let him help me to my feet.

"Let's get out of here," he said gently, and if I hadn't been so busy crying my eyes out I would have agreed with him.

Sorry for any Marshal fans, I just don't like him. He seems like such a stock character. Or evil…probably evil! So I've totally done the world a favor.

Also, my apologies for the length. I'll try to get these chapters into tasty bite-sized chunks.

Please leave a review; if I feel appreciated, it might just help me write faster!


	2. Negotiations

The usual...not my characters. Love Kim Harrison. Love Trench.

The smoothness of the leather seats and their comforting, earthy smell was the first thing I remembered with any clarity. And the soft, haunting music of Takata on the radio, which I quickly changed to some crappy pop station, but for once I didn't care and Trent wisely said nothing. I blinked my eyes and squirmed in the seat a bit, pointedly not looking towards Trent. I hadn't fallen asleep damn it, I just didn't remember actually getting in his car. And what a nice car it was. I was right that neither Quen or Jonathan had accompanied him today. Instead of his tacky gray limo in which he always had to sit in the backseat like a kid, he had brought the beamer and was actually the one driving. It was gray, of course. I was starting to think he had a bit of an obsession, especially since when he was mocking my about my morals he always spoke in terms of gray. I tried to remember the color of the horse he had chased my down on one of the times I'd been trespassing on his property. Long story, but it had been dark, and I hadn't been that close, thankfully. But I would bet it was gray too.

Trent shifted in his seat and adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, trying to bring my attention back to him. I knew he wanted to talk, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue our conversation from the park. After all, I had seriously considered frying his little elf brains with a blast of ever after. I shuddered, remembering the anger that had filled me, even possessed me for a moment.

"Cold?" Trent asked, and he flicked on the car heater. His hand lingered near the switch, and he looked towards me, his green eyes asking. I glared at him, remembering how warm and soothing his strong, tanned hands had felt around me. He smirked back at me, as if reading my mind. I tried to think of something mocking and scathing to say to him, but nothing was coming to me. Damn, I guess I was really exhausted. I huffed irritably instead, but this just seemed to amuse him more and he snickered softly.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" I demanded, glad the anger was coming back in a manageable form and relieved I even had the anger to keep me from despairing about Marshal or reexamining too closely my mini breakdown in the park. Being mad at Trent gave me something to do that reinforced our normal boundaries. What had happened in the park, with him holding me, comforting me…it felt awkward now, and worse, made me feel vulnerable around a man I knew I had to be on my guard with.

"You," he said simply, and I tried not to let myself get caught up in his voice, which was always difficult since it was possibly the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard. But he was still a sleazy bastard, just a sleazy bastard with an amazing voice. "You're trying to pretend nothing happened, trying to fall back on the normal routine."

"Nothing did happen, Trent," I said hastily, hating that he could read me so well.

"Hmm, really?" he mused, and I was unnerved by the informal sound of it. It was easier to be mad at him when he was acting like himself, that is, a distant, arrogant bastard.

"Yeah, nothing, really," I reiterated and he shook his head but didn't argue further.

The car slowed to a stop at a traffic light, and he used the moment to stretch, careful not to reach too close towards me in the confined space of the car. I had to look away, slumping further into my seat and trying to banish the image from my eyes. He had closed his eyes, his beautiful, tanned body tensed, his lightly muscled chest straining against the material of his shirt, before relaxing back into his seat. A mere second had me fighting to think pure thoughts. Okay, so he was a sleazy bastard with an amazing body as well. But I was still maintaining my anger, which was good since the sudden warmth from the car's heater had me feeling slightly sleepy. Glenn has woken my up with the news of Marshal's death early even by human standards, and even without losing out on hours of sleep, it had been an emotionally exhaustive and draining day. I shook my head irritably. This was not the time to be careless. I glanced out the window for the first time and gulped. So much for not being careless.

"Where the hell are we?" I shouted, sitting up in my seat and glaring daggers at him. We were clearly out of the city. The buildings had given way to more open areas with occasional clumps of trees which I knew would quickly grow into the planted forest that surrounded Trent's home and business offices. "I don't want to hang out in your freaky little compound, Kalamack!"

"I assumed you didn't want to go back to your church," he said stiffly, but there was a question in his words, and I shook my head, knowing the place would still be unbearable without Ivy's presence to lessen the pain. "Well, where else would we go, Rachel?"

There seemed to be something else to his words, and I glanced at him, not sure if I was more angry or confused. But he was carefully keeping his attention on the road even though there was little traffic.

"Turn around. Bring me back to the park," I demanded. When he said nothing and made no move to alter our course, I added, "I'm not staying with you, Trent."

"We can have an early dinner, you can yell at me some more," he said with all seriousness, and I laughed in spite of myself, remembering how awkward our first dinner had been, especially the part when I'd insinuated to his fiancée that Trent and I had been an item and she'd practically called me a whore. "When will Tamwood be back?" he asked.

"Later this week. Her and Cormel…" I started to explain and stopped. Trent didn't need to know about Ivy and fricking Rynn Cormel, who I so was not jealous of at all. I was just pissed he could come in so suddenly and sweep my partner so thoroughly off her feet, but I wasn't jealous and Trent didn't know anything about it and didn't need to. But he nodded knowingly and I was torn between wanting to hit him for his smug know-it-all ways and curious what he knew about Ivy and Cormel.

"It doesn't matter. Bring me back to the park," I repeated, as much for myself as for him. I didn't want to go back to the church or sit in the darkening park alone, but I sure as hell didn't want to spend the night at Trent's place. I gulped audibly; thinking about it in those terms made it seem even more troubling. I glanced at Trent out of the corner of my eye; surely he couldn't be trying something? Well, other than trying to buy me or possibly kill me. Recalling how our jaunt in the ever after ended, the trying to kill me possibility wasn't that far-fetched. But I was pretty sure I could call his bullshit, knew him well enough, knew his tells, and he'd seemed sincere…if he ever was.

"Admit it Rachel," he said suddenly, drawing my out of my deliberations, "you don't want to be alone right now. You need not to be alone right now. So stop arguing like a child and accept my invitation."

"I am not the one being childish!" I nearly shouted at him. He didn't even bother glancing at me as he turned off onto road that led to his compound. "I didn't ask you to take me anywhere," I reminded him snidely, watching the trees sprawl out all around us.

"You're welcome," Trent responded, a slight scowl on his face.

"And I didn't say thank you, you pompous bastard," I growled, slumping back into my seat and pointedly ignoring him. He clearly thought he had won and flipped the radio back to its original station. It was some band I wasn't familiar with but the lyrics were haunting in the silence of the car: _"Put to rest what you thought of me / while I clean this slate with the hands of uncertainty / So let mercy come and wash away what I've done."_

We pulled up to the security booth and the uniformed guard waved him through without a moment's hesitation. I slumped further into my seat, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.

I'm not sure how I feel about the pacing, but here's chapter 2. Hmm, I wonder where this is heading…wink wink The lyrics on the radio at the end are from Linkin Park's "What I've Done." It seems like a very Trent-appropriate song after his confession in the ever after in ODW.

If you love the steamy possibilities that is Trenchness, please leave a review!


	3. Confrontation

Part 3 Confrontation

Rachel Morgan belongs to Kim Harrison and Trent Kalamack belongs to Rachel… Anyway, I do not own etc etc.

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I jerked my foot up and down, irritated at Trent, myself, and the whole situation in general. The music playing softly on the speaker system was beautiful, the garden visible outside the flowing wall of ever-after energy was lovely in the soft darkness, the huge, subtly elegant living room/dining space was comfortable and relaxing, and it all just made me even more pissed off. Here I was hanging around in Trent's compound, lounging around in a sinfully cozy, overstuffed chair while Cincy's beloved city councilman, drug lord, and murdering bastard extraordinaire was in the kitchen informing Maggie there'd be two for dinner tonight. I felt like slamming my head down on the coffee table, repeatedly. I had no idea what I was doing here. Well, I had some idea what I was doing here, but I was still fairly certain it was definitely one of the dumber things I'd ever gotten myself into. I buried my head in my hands and bit back a groan. It was either this or being alone. And as much as I hated to admit it, Trent had been right. I really didn't want to be alone right now.

I gulped suddenly, trying desperately not to think of Marshal. I glanced up, trying to gaze at the lovely garden outside, trying to take in the layered, delicate shadows of purples and blues, the swaying of branches to the soft murmur of moving water. But it wasn't working, and I ducked my head again irritably when I felt tears welling in my eyes. Damn it, I didn't want to start crying again! Especially here with…

I have learned not to expect elves to make much sound. But I did hear the door from the kitchen swing open, and I furiously dashed at my eyes, trying to wipe away the tears before Trent could see me.

"Sorry, but dinner might take awhile. It's somewhat earlier than we would usually…" Trent fell quiet as he approached me.

I sensed him more than heard him kneel down in front of my chair. I glanced up, startled by how close he suddenly was to me. He reached into his pocket and offered the handkerchief to me silently, his face a careful blank as he took in my red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face. Not breaking the awkward silence, I took it and dabbed at my eyes. He rose and made his way back to his chair, now carefully avoiding my gaze as he settled himself. As I wiped the tears from my face, I realized how strongly the handkerchief smelled of him. The fresh, leaf and apple scent that I had come to associate with elves mixed with Trent's own unique smell and the hint of slightly musky cologne. Breathing into it deeply, I couldn't help but feel comforted, more relaxed by his scent. I glanced up suddenly, mortified he'd seen me sniffing his handkerchief. He was seated across me in the arrangement of chairs and sofas, but his chair faced towards the gardens, with which he seemed entirely distracted. I hastily stuffed the handkerchief into my pocket, wondering briefly about handkerchief etiquette. Was I supposed to keep it? Wash it and give it back to him? Or hand it back now full of snot and tears? I thought I could ask Ivy, she would probably know. Recalling his peaceful, heavenly scent that saturated the handkerchief, I reconsidered. Maybe I would just keep it.

The silence stretched and I fidgeted in my seat while stealing furtive glances at Trent who continued to stare intently out at the gardens. He had taken off the suit jacket earlier and had unbuttoned his cuffs, but he looked even better slightly ruffled in my opinion. Dwelling on Ceri's dislike for shoes, I wondered why he still wore his in his own home. But then, maybe that wasn't an elf thing, only a Ceri thing. Or maybe he has ugly feet, I thought to myself as I continued to examine his apparently at ease profile.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" he asked quietly, his voice full of irritation as he turned his head slightly towards me.

I hoped I wasn't blushing but couldn't look away now that he had brought it up. "Hadn't decided yet. Either that or interrogate you about Marshal's death," I said sweetly, grinning even wider at his apparent discomfort. Two could play at this game. And since I was here, I might as well try and do something useful.

"Keep it down, witch," he said curtly and before I could snap back at him Maggie came into the room to announce dinner would be ready in twenty minutes. Trent thanked her and she retreated back into the kitchen. Once the door closed firmly behind her he turned back towards me, smiling smugly. So what, elves had better hearing than witches. It didn't piss me off…much.

"Back to the topic at hand. What do you know about Marshal's death?" I reiterated, speaking slowly as if he were too dimwitted to have understood the question the first time.

"Damn it, Rachel," he said sharply, nearly shouting and rising from his seat. My jaw almost dropped at his uncharacteristic outburst. I wasn't sure if I was more shocked or delighted I had upset his nonchalance so thoroughly and with so little effort. "I brought you here so you could forget about him. Why won't you let it go?"

"Because it's important to me. He is…was important to me," I said, keeping a calm tone to contrast against Trent's anger and irritation, which had seem to come out of the blue. My eyes widened slightly. Was Trent having a hissy fit over me and Marshal?

"Why is he so important to you anyway? He wasn't your boyfriend," he challenged, his voice emphasizing the last word and making it sound ugly somehow.

I lost my cool at that. The bastard had no right to question how I felt about Marshal. I was on my feet now too, taking a few steps to lessen the distance between us so I could more effectively yell at him. "Not that it's any of your damn business, but he was my friend!" I said, my voice rising to match his. I wondered briefly if Maggie would come out to see what all the commotion was about or just pretend to have heard nothing.

"Friend?" he said incredulously. "You hardly knew him. You didn't owe him anything, you weren't responsible for him. _Why does he matter to you_?" Trent said, and the bitterness in his voice left me speechless for a moment.

Things started clicking into place in my mind, and though I wasn't sure I believed it, I knew what I could do to hurt him back. I dropped my voice slightly and looked him straight in the eye, saying vindictively "He matters to me a hell of a lot more than you ever will."

Trent froze. The angry red that had tinted his ears and brushed his cheeks drained away as he gazed back at me, his hands balled into fists. My triumphant only lasted a few silent seconds. Already I was regretting it as I stared him down, seeing something like desperation in his burning green eyes.

His lips moved soundlessly twice before he found his voice. "Why would I care what a filthy, black-stained half-demon thinks of me?" he said softly, his voice almost purring with satisfaction.

I was across the room in an instant. I didn't even remember raising my hand, but I did remember the fulfilling smack of impact and slightly regretted I had slapped him open-palmed instead of giving him a black eye. Trent's hand rose to touch the reddened cheek I had slapped as he stared at me in disbelief. "Rachel?" he asked, the uncertainty in his voice disquieting. I paused, my hand half raised to strike him again, waiting for him to try and say another dirty thing about me. He watched me for a moment, his green eyes calculating, then grabbed my wrist. I gasped, shocked I had just stood there and let him do it. I had fully intended on pulling my hand from his and berating him with a fistful of colorful expletives, really, but then he covered my mouth with his own. The words that had been about to fly from me were smothered by his soft lips that were being anything but gentle as he forced his mouth against mine. I froze, wanting to push him away and slug him a good one, but I wanted other things as well. I tried to clear my head, but his hands were holding me to him now, pulling my body against his. I could feel the warmth of him all down my front, promising my yearning, hungry body more. One of his hands moved in gentle circles along my back, the other clutched at my hip, keeping me against him. His tongue flicked out hot and wet against my lips and I shuddered against him, still undecided, still uncertain. The hand on my hip strayed and started toying with the button on my jeans. That made me act. I brought one of my boots down hard on his instep and tore my mouth from his in time to hear him yelp in surprise.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled as I backed up, mad at him and even madder at myself for feeling so utterly flustered. It was one dumb kiss, a kiss I hadn't even wanted, but my whole body felt alight, wanting to feel his body against mine, wanting his sweet scent enveloping me and his beautiful green eyes above me, wanting the soft strength of his hands on me once again. I sighed, shaking my head at my own foolishness and hoping I could dislodge any future romantic thoughts of Trent from my mind. But we were still standing only a few feet away from each other, and the situation demanded a response. His gaze was so intent I was seriously tempted to drop my eyes.

"Trent, I'm sorry…"

"I didn't mean…"

We both spoke at the same time then fell silent, each watching the other and waiting.

"I think…" he said slowly, tentatively as if he expected me to try and slap him again. "I think maybe we should be around each other more often."

I shook my head, not quite believing or perhaps not understanding what I was hearing. Was this his half-assed way of asking for a date? "Absolutely not," I stated, crossing my arms pointedly as I glared at him.

"Why?" he said simply, his face carefully blank.

"I'm not giving you extra chances to try and manipulate me."

He looked at me a moment then titled his face down, trying to hide his grin. When he looked back up at me his face was once again a careful blank. "Maybe you overestimate the nefariousness of my attempted manipulations."

I stared at him a second, eyebrows raised, "What?" I asked, but he turned away.

"Rachel," he said, with his back still turned to me. I shivered, I couldn't help it. After striking him, he was giving me his back, trusting me. And when he said my name, it was more now, more…intimate. I gave myself a quick mental shake. I didn't want to think like that…did I?

"I'm sorry I lost my temper. I am sorry…" he said, turning back to face me, his green eyes boring into my own, but he paused, and I watched him curiously as he balled his fists and looked away. I wondered for a moment if he was fighting the urge to hit me back, but when he looked back at me I knew he wasn't considering anything of the sort. The honesty of his face startled me. It wasn't like the Trent I knew, or at least the Trent I thought I knew. I couldn't remember him ever being this open, except maybe for a moment when we'd been in the ever-after…

"I meant what I said," Trent spoke suddenly as if reading my mind. "I want to be more, to be better than this," he said and gestured helplessly at himself. "I think I could be better with you. We could be…" he started to say, but stopped, waiting and watching for my response.

"Trent," I said simply, "this is crazy. We can't even hold a normal conversation for more than a few minutes. We would murder each other in a few hours."

He grinned at my response, something I had not intended. "I promise not to kill you if you promise not to kill me," he said seriously enough, though he was still smiling at me in a decidedly un-Trent like fashion. It wasn't his usual faked politician's smile that damn near displayed every single, perfectly white tooth. It seemed more natural, more genuine, and I thought it looked good on him, made him look younger and not like the harried businessman with a stick perpetually up his ass. A small smile quirked my lips, but before I could respond he closed the distance between us, taking my smile and silent study of him as response enough.

I gasped and tried to back up, but stopped when I saw the look on his face, now only inches again from my own. He was beautiful, as always, but there was something more in his features and eyes, a sort of desperate tenderness, as if he'd shut off that part of himself for so long he was afraid to find if it was still there. His hand rose cautiously to touch my face, his fingers barely brushing my skin, brining a soft sigh from me. His mouth hovered just above mine, and I leaned into him, bringing our lips together. I didn't have time to wonder how stupid this was, his hands were around my waist and mine rose to embrace him back. His warmth, his scent, were just too much, and I felt myself relaxing into his arms.

I'm not sure how far it would have gone, but we didn't have a chance to find out. Neither of us had heard the door to the kitchen open, but Maggie was suddenly in the room with us, announcing dinner as if her employer wasn't making out with a witch. I pulled away from him suddenly, knowing my face was as red as my hair. I tried to think of some excuse, something to say to explain away the situation, but Maggie was already heading back towards her kitchen, humming contently. Trent took my elbow gently as if to guide me to the dinning area, but I withdrew my arm from his, too mortified to even meet his eyes or answer his questioning look.

Dinner was pretty silent and awkward. Trent attempted small talk, but I pretty much shut him down with my one-word responses and a nearly religious dedicated to my food. After the first few glances in his direction showed him to be scrutinizing me rather too intently, I kept my eyes on my plate. And I didn't care if I ate like a half-starved pixie in a sugar factory. I hadn't eaten at all today damn it and I was hungry. Damn elf ate like a horse anyway, so he sure as hell wasn't in any position to criticize. The only great thing was Maggie kept the coffee coming, for which I was grateful, but I had to stop after my fourth cup. After all the day's drama, first Marshal, then Ivy's absence and Jenks's worries, and now Trent acting…strange, I didn't want to be twitchy all night. I wanted sleep, and soon. It was still abnormally early for Inderlanders to go to bed, but I needed it. I almost raised my eyes and asked him if my invitation included the night, but then a far too suggestive idea rose in my mind. I dropped my gaze back to my plate, praying I wasn't blushing again as I wondered not if I could sleep over at Trent's place, but where I would be sleeping…?

--

Taking bets…not really, but still, where do you think Rachel will sleep tonight? Guest bedroom or Trent's bed? Oooo anticipation


	4. Reconciliation

Reconciliation

Reconciliation

_No, I haven't forgotten. Sorry it took sooooo long to update, but I hope it's worth the wait :) Rated M for a reason, just thought I'd remind you all. Really, really graphically M…If that bugs you, go read something else :P_

_I do borrow a line from EWWBD which is a fairly common saying/quote in Latin, but still, it is in italics and quotations so there are no misunderstandings. Again, I do not own any of this. I am but a panderer of Kim Harrison's greatness. February approaches! Until then, let there be more fanfic!!_

The guest room was lovely, of course. It was comfortable and elegant without going over the top or making an excuse to display wealth, just like the rest of Trent's compound, the parts I'd seen at least. It was also insanely huge, bigger than my bedroom of course, and possibly bigger than our living room and sanctuary combined. I had examined my room thoroughly, walking over the plush carpets silently in my socks and checking in the closets and under the bed. What? Just because I made out with the guy doesn't mean I trust him.

The attached bathroom was an ode to decadence, at least in my humble middle-class opinion. The marble countertops held two deep sinks made up of mosaic tiles done in shades of gray and green to compliment the room, the towels hanging ready on the racks were fluffier than a poodle trapped in a dryer, and the jacuzzi-style tub took up most of the floor space. I was usually a shower gal, but I guess I'd just have to suffer and lounge around in hot water all morning letting the jets massage my feet instead.

Back in the bedroom, someone had placed pajamas out for me, for which I was immensely grateful despite the fact that I usually just slept in a top and panties. The pajamas were a soft lilac color and felt like real silk. And besides, sleeping in dirty clothes is never fun, but it would have been sinful to sleep in my dirt-stained jeans in that bed. It was a four-poster maple bed covered in a light green, down-filled comforter with cream colored silk sheets underneath. The mattress felt like heaven, and the plentiful pillows were obscenely soft. Lying down in my borrowed pjs, I knew I could sleep like the dead here. But I'd have to forget a lot of things first. Well, I knew I couldn't forget, not really, but I needed to push it all out of my mind if I was really going to fall asleep. But still, with Marshal gone, and me missing Ivy something terrible, and now the weirdness with Trent, it seemed no matter how exhausted I was, finding sleep would be a task.

So as I tried to make my mind a blissful blank, Glenn's voice came barging into my mind, making me remember the words and my own frustration, sadness, and guilt.

"_Rachel, I'm sorry. But they found his body this mourning…"_

I hadn't been there for him, I couldn't help avenge him now without…

"_I need to know, Rachel. Did Marshal have any enemies?"_

A pack of vicious Weres who burnt down his garage out of frustration at not being able to get back at me? How many other people fit that description? How many others could have picked Marshal out as an easy target because I was too well protected in my church with Jenks and his entire family as sentries and a Tamwood vampire watching my back? I hadn't been able to tell Glenn anything substantial, I had too many questions myself. Trent showing up so suddenly could have been a blessing, but he had been adamantly closed-lipped, well about Marshal's death anyway, but not when…

I turned over in bed, trying not to dwell on the memory of Trent's lips, how soft yet strong, wet and full, needing, teasing, playing, and demanding of my own in the few moments we'd had before Maggie had interrupted us. I wasn't sure now if I was grateful or disappointed at being interrupted. What could be the harm in it, really?

I sat up suddenly. I did not want to be suckered into Trent's way of thinking, of doing what I wanted merely because I could and only seeing the easy choices instead of the right ones. Trent was a murderer, probably in many more instances than the times when I had caught him at it. I had killed, yes, but it was different, wasn't it? Despite Trent's accusations that we were the same and the disturbing fact that his aura was so much cleaner than my own black-stained one, I had to believe that yes, there was a difference in what Trent and I did, a big difference. Saving his species was his top priority, as his words in the ever-after had proven, but the cold-blooded murders were more than that, he was protecting his little black market empire and his profits in the same stroke. "_Exitus acta probat." _I remember him saying that, the first night we had had dinner together after I had dragged his ass out of the freezing river. And thanks to Al's demanding Latin lessons, I knew what it meant now. _The solution sanctions the deeds_. Trent might really believe that, but I sure as hell didn't.

But did that mean two people with widely different world views and moral standings couldn't feel something for one another? I tossed about in bed, mulling over this and then finally threw the covers off and crawled out of bed. I couldn't stay still a moment longer and felt more awake than I had all day. It was too much to think about, and so my body wanted to move, to do something, anything, instead of painfully dwelling on it all. I clicked on the big screen television in the room just for some background noise to pace about the room to.

And then to help thicken the muddled mess my mind and body were, I heard a tentative knocking on the door I had purposefully locked. I stood still, scarcely daring to breathe, listening carefully, thinking maybe my exhausted mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe it had been the television?

"Rachel? Are you still awake?" I heard his beautiful voice call quietly, and my heart jumped in my chest. I wanted to stay silent, wait for him to leave, and then thoroughly berate myself for my response to his voice outside my bedroom door. Because I felt none of the fear, disgust, or caution I had felt only moments before. His voice, his waiting presence behind the door, seemed to push all that away and left me practically breathless with anticipation. What could he want? I knew what I wanted, I think, but with Trent and I, we could just as likely insult each other and maybe I would slap him again. Maybe he would try to hit me back, maybe Quen would have to come rescue this precious Sa'han from my killer choke-hold, but it was hard to think seriously about anything else but a follow-up to our make-out session when my body was alight with the recent memory of his searching hands and warm mouth.  
I heard this shoes shuffle softly on the carpet outside my door and felt a moment of panic mixed with disappointment. Was he leaving? Was it too late to call him back? Was I really ready to unlock that door?

I heard him sigh and knew it was now or never. I stepped further away from the door so he wouldn't know I'd been listening to him and hit the mute button on the television. "Yes, I'm awake," I said, hoping my voice wasn't as shaky as it seemed to my ears. _What do you want, Trent?_ I wanted to ask, but waited, silent.

I heard his intake of breath again, sharper this time. The pause was painful as I waited, ears straining for his voice again. Could I have been mistaken? Was it just my deprived sex drive hoping desperately Trent was still awake for the same reason I was?

Finally, his voice broke the silence, and I felt all the little hairs on my arms stood upright expectantly as his voice washed over me. "Can I come in? We…we need to talk," he said softly.

Talk? If I wanted to be difficult about it, maybe send him away embarrassed, I knew I could ask, oh so sweetly, what exactly he wanted to talk about. But I didn't. I moved towards the door and unlocked it. Because despite it all, I knew I really didn't want him to leave. I knew he had heard the door unlock with his creepy-good elf hearing, but I wasn't going to open it for him. I stood back a bit and didn't have to wait long before he gently pushed the door open, peering in before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He was still in his slacks and dress shirt, and I watched him and tried not to grin as he took in my appearance. I had seen myself in the mirror and knew I looked damn good in those silken pajamas. The cool lavender complimented my pale, perfect skin and made my eyes and hair seem more vibrant. I had also undone the top three buttons, for comfort of course.

But then he looked past me, eyes vaguely drifting over my shoulder. "I wanted to apologize to you," he said softly, his warm voice contrasting with the distance in his eyes. "Things got out of hand tonight. There's no excuse for how I've acted."

Was he serious? I felt my libido come to a crashing halt as I stared at a dejected Trent. I tried to find the words to downplay my disappointment, but my throat was sealed tight and aching, making me pray I wouldn't start crying again.

"You've asked me twice, and though I've insinuated otherwise, I don't know anything about your friend's death," he said simply, and the mix of emotions that hit me was overwhelming: relief, desire, rage, regret. I sat down suddenly on the end of the bed, trying to sort through this mess. He wasn't apologizing for, resenting, our kisses, and he didn't know about Marshal. So he couldn't have been involved, but now I had no leads, absolutely nothing, which made me feel miserable and now Trent was here and miserable as well.

"I thought you were regretting…" I paused, at a loss for words. "You know, earlier," I said weakly, feeling self-conscious and even more embarrassed about being embarrassed and solidly refusing to even look up at him from the bed.

He chuckled softly and my eyes darted up, taking in the warmth in his green eyes and the beauty in his smile, that slow, sweet smile again not his cheesy politician's grin. "It will be a cold day in hell when I regret getting to touch you," he said as his bright eyes bore into my own.

What? Now that was more like it. I couldn't help but feel pleased even though I knew I was blushing like a teenager. I finally managed to pull my eyes away from his and tried to pretend to stare at the muted television instead, but the weight and heat of his gaze still on me seemed almost tangible and was wildly distracting.

The feel of his weight settling on the mattress almost made me jump up. Trent had sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, not touching, but close enough. He stretched his legs out and grinned at my apparent irritation as I contemplated simply shoving him off the bed. "So, what are you watching?" he asked innocently enough, but his eyes seemed anything but. I wanted to yell at him to get off my bed, but the television screen caught my eyes, and I glanced at the muted screen and felt my heart stop. It was one of those late-night advertisements for videos of a questionable nature. The ads must have changed when the television was muted and I hadn't noticed. Mortified at the images on the screen while trying to act like it was nothing, I glanced around for the remote. But as always, when least convenient, remotes go missing. I went to the television to turn it off manually but of course Trent's TV had to be some ridiculously modern gadget and I couldn't find the damn "off" button anywhere on the sleek surface. Trying not to panic, I turned, glancing about the room, searching for that cursed remote as Trent laughed hysterically, not even offering to help me and not bothering to curtail his amusement with the situation.

"Yeah, real funny," I said sarcastically as I got down on my hands and knees to look under the bed while Trent laughed all the harder. Satisfied it had not fallen on the floor and gotten swept underneath, I stood again and continued searching, pointedly ignoring a certain elf that was practically gasping for air.

"Really, Rachel. I had no idea your cinematic preferences were so scandalous," he managed to gasp out amidst his bursts of laughter.

"Ah ha!" I shouted in triumph, raising the remote from the bedside drawer and dramatically pointing it towards the screen, shutting it off just as the camera was panning further down the body of a young, completely naked woman.

Trent was still chuckling though, and I irritably brushed a curl out of my face. "Yeah, because it really was just that damn funny," I said sarcastically. _That's all the naked woman you'll see tonight, elf, _I thought vindictively. I considered throwing the remote at him, but he'd probably just turn it back on just so he could laugh some more. As pissed as I was, he looked good when he laughed, and knowing Trent, he probably hadn't laughed so hard in a long time.

But then his gaze turned to me, and his beautiful green eyes were even more so when bright from laughter. It was difficult to be angry with him looking like that and I fought to keep from grinning at him like an idiot. My annoyance at him faded entirely though when he reached up from the bed for my hands and gently, pulling me closer to him, planted a kiss on each one, his warm lips lingering on my fingertips. I stared down at him, my uncertainties evaporating in the warm glow of his eyes. Tentatively, my hand rose, and I did something I'd wanted to do every since I'd laid eyes on him. I ran my hand through his perfectly pale blonde hair, feeling the impossibly soft, fine strands glide through my fingers. Trent sighed under my hands, his eyes closing briefly, and then reclaiming my hand in his gentle grasp, pulled me closer to him, one arm wrapping possessively around my waist.

His face was dangerously close to my chest, but he didn't touch, didn't bury his face into my body and breathe in my scent the way I was craving to breathe him in. His arm was still around me, holding me to him, my hand rested in his, and my legs were warm against his knees. We were touching and not fighting; I wasn't sure I could believe it, but I knew I didn't want it to end. I wanted to push against him all the way, to feel the lines of our bodies melded against one another completely. Trent glanced up at me, his eyes still beautiful, but brighter, more primal looking and I wondered if my gaze was filled with as much longing as his.

"Rachel, I've wanted this for so long," he whispered up to me, the look in his eyes and melody of his voice warming my entire body. He leaned his head in slowly and placed his lips tentatively on some of the skin revealed by my mostly unbuttoned pajama top. I sighed, moving my hands back up into his hair to hold him against me as his lips trailed soft but burning kisses down that line of exposed skin.

Still kissing up and down my front, his hand moved for the lower buttons on my shirt, and I felt a moment's hesitation just as in the dining room when his fingers had toyed with the button on my jeans. His strong grasp on my hip, his busy, warm, and moist lips moving on me, the look I had seen in his eyes, all these things made me want to continue, drove me to touch him, to want him to touch me back, but when that first button came undone and I felt his hand begin to slide under my shirt, I stepped back. I didn't actually pull away, when I moved, the hand almost grasping my hip pulled back and I merely stepped out of his arms. I put a safer distance of a few feet between us and looked down at Trent, his arms now limp at his side, staring back up at me. His gaze was still warm with desire, but there was confusion there too now and maybe even hurt.

"Trent," I said simply, unsure how to voice all the things bothering me, all the fears and all the uncertainties I thought banished when I was in his arms. Did I really want this, did I really want him? My body was screaming yes, desperately telling me this was good and right, but then again I hadn't had a lover since Kisten. Kisten had been dead for more than seven months now, though the thought of him could still bring tears to my eyes. In spite of my mourning for him, and now for Marshal, seven months of chastity was still asking for a lot. So I was fairly certain my body would vote to screw anything that stayed still long enough. But this wasn't anybody, it was Trent. And my feelings about Trent were never simple, never easy. Was this really the man I wanted? Could I stand the further complications in my life? Oh god, I thought, a sudden panic running through me, What would Ivy think? Or Jenks for that matter? Ceri I would suspect might pretend indifference or mild support, but would she secretly be upset, did she still have a thing for him herself even though she was undeniably in love with Quen?

"A million thoughts are running across your face, Rachel. Am I still one of them?" Trent asked quietly, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. His voice, usually so beautiful and strong, even demanding and often arrogant, now sounded so lost, so uncertain I wasn't sure I could handle it. _Of course you are,_ I wanted to tell him. I wanted to hold him in my arms again, I wanted to feel him holding me, touching me back. No matter our differences, we felt something for one another, so why couldn't we be a comfort to each other in our radically different, demanding, sometimes frightening lives?

He sat on the edge of my bed and said nothing more, waiting for me. And I went to him.

He stared up at me, eyes still uncertain, his arms still limp at his side, but I knew what I wanted, despite my uncertainties, and I pushed my body roughly up against his, forcing his legs apart, grabbed his beautiful, pale gold, and now deliciously untidy hair and pulled his head back to meet my lips. Trent went from frozen and uncertain to matching my heat and intensity as I thrusted my tongue in his warm mouth. His arms wrapped around me like a drowning man grabbing a life jacket and his mouth became as demanding as mine. I pulled up for air, gasping and holding back a rather desperate moan as one of his hands squeezed my behind. Before I could catch my breath, Trent pulled me back down to him, his soft lips roughly moving against mine. The hot wetness of his tongue moved across my lips, and I opened my mouth for him, loving the taste of him as he explored me.

He pulled back this time, and I waited, feeling almost dizzy and glad his legs were on either side of me, trapping me against his body. Both his hands moved up to the front of my pajama shirt, toying carefully with the button but not unfastening them. I rested one hand against his knee and smiled, knowing he was waiting, testing if I still wanted to continue. I ran my hand slowly up his leg towards his inner thigh, feeling the muscled hardness of his leg and wanting to see how much better he looked without the dress pants. I wanted to cup at his groin, to feel him ready and straining against the expensive fabric, but since it seemed like he was still too hesitant to fondle my chest, I ran both my hands up his front to rest on his shoulders and pushed my body tightly against his until I could feel the warmth and hardness of his groin against mine. He moaned low and soft against my skin and began kissing at the base of my throat while his hands swiftly unbuttoned my top. I didn't even need to help him; he had the buttons undone and my top off in a few seconds. His hands rose up to cup my breasts as his mouth worked towards them. I sighed, throwing my head back, when his mouth took hold of a nipple and sucked while his hands continued moving, massaging my flesh. He switched to the other nipple, his burning tongue swirling around before he began sucking. His eyes glanced up to gauge my reaction, and the slack look of lust and need on my face pushed him on, sucking even harder on my nipple and grazing his teeth carefully against my skin. I shuddered, and his hands left my breasts to fold around my body, pulling me even closer as his mouth continued to draw upon my breast.

I knew I was making sounds, moans, low whimpers, but I couldn't help it. It had been so long, too long since I had held another, been held, and the fact that it was Trent…The man's mere voice could flip my switch, but I had more than his voice now; I had his gorgeous eyes staring up at me, his touch, his lips. One of his hands fell to my hip, making my hot, aching skin even warmer under his caressing fingertips. I shut my eyes and sighed as his hand slid along the waist of my pants, inching the material down and exposing more skin to his caresses.

Both his hands came to rest on my hips and his mouth began inching down as he pulled my pants even further, dangerously approaching areas pants were meant to cover. I wasn't sure I could stand anymore waiting, no matter how amazing Trent's mouth felt on my skin. I gave his hair another tug before reaching down for his pants and fumbling with his fly. Trent froze, his mouth pressed against my stomach, and he shuddered against me when I finally managed to get him unzipped. I reached for him, wondering if was really as big as he had felt through his pants and how he would feel in my hands, but he sat up suddenly, grabbed my hands and pulled me fully onto the bed with him.

Side-by-side, he tried to get on top of me, pulling my pants the rest of the way down though I had to kick and shake my ankles to get them to come all the way off. But I wasn't sure I wanted him on top, no matter how amazingly hot he was, and besides, he was still almost fully dressed. I rolled on top of him almost too easily, pinning his head down with my demanding lips on his as my hands tore away his shirt. I pressed against him, rubbing all over his chest and luxuriating in the feel of all that smooth, soft skin with a hard layer of muscle underneath.

He tried to roll on top of me again, but I kept him under me, sending my hands down to explore further. Trent shuddered when I ran my hands over the front of his boxers and moaned when I moved them aside and grasped him, running my hand up and down his hard length while grasping slightly. He nearly threw my off when I squeezed, his hips bucking under me, driving me to continue playing with the velvety smooth tip of him between my fingers. "Oh god, Rachel," he moaned into my lips, his eyes closed and head thrown back, and my hand slowed its movements, my fingers brushing and tracing now to allow him a chance to catch his breath. He sighed but took advantage of his temporary respite to mirror my own movements, sending both his hands down to my groin. I couldn't help closing my eyes at his touch, his warm, strong hands first kneading and stroking my inner thighs before moving in, causing my muscles to contract as I shuddered in pleasure.

My hands reached back down for him, trying to reciprocate the pleasures his own deft movements were igniting on my body, but his still intact clothing kept getting in the way. "Pants," I said, my voice raspy and urgent even to my own ears though I wondered how I could even make any sense with his fingers inside me and his other hand stroking and exploring between my legs.

He wiggled his hips experimentally, trying to slide his pants down with me still on top of him. "Lift up a bit," Trent said, taking a hand from between my legs to steady me around my waist. I shifted my legs and pulled my weight from him, and he took advantage of not having me pinning him not only to get his pants and boxers off but to finally get on top. I gasped in surprise when he topped me, but his mouth moving down to close on my nipple and the resumed movement of his hand between my legs stifled any protest I might have voiced.

His hard and ready cock, which had felt so amazing in my hands, felt even better waiting heavily against my thigh. I shifted underneath him, trying to bring our bodies even closer together, craving to feel him not just against me but inside me. Trent released my nipple and sat up despite my groan of frustration. But not having him pressed against me did have its advantages. Now I had a full frontal view of my undeniably gorgeous elf from head to toe and all the wonderful parts in between. Finally I could see what I had been so arduously toying with, and I was tempted to fold my hands to keep from reaching out to grasp and stroke him again.

"Rachel," Trent whispered, and I fought to draw my attention up to his face since his stunningly luscious body was rearing over me, begging to be stroked, licked, and nipped.

"Up here, Rachel," Trent said, his voice on the verge of laughter and his smile making him look even more delicious.

"Hmm?" I asked, trying for my best impression of innocence, though maybe the act was ruined when I gave into temptation and wrapped a hand snugly around the base of his cock.

Trent sighed and leaned back down over me. I wrapped my legs tightly around his hips to keep him thus, and he moved his lips up to my face, brushing aside a stray curl. "You naughty witch," he whispered to me, and his lips pressed slightly against my ear before teasingly taking my earlobe into his mouth. I shuddered underneath him. If I wasn't ready before I certainly was now. Having Trent call my naughty just…well, it just did it for me.

He brushed my hand aside and I relinquished my grip on him only because I knew soon I'd get to feel him even more. I loosened my legs around him as well so he could position himself over me. I knew he was big, but when I felt him pressed against my opening I thought we might have to switch things around a bit to make this work. I opened my mouth to suggest this but intelligible words did not come out because Trent was already leaning into me, keeping his hips almost rigidly still yet pushing harder against me, forcing me open for him.

God, it had been too long. I closed my eyes, living in the sensations of him so slowly working himself into me, trying to be gentle with a size that wasn't made for gentleness. I was plenty turned on, plenty wet for him, but still, it wasn't an easy maneuver. I spread even wider for him but couldn't help running my nails over his chest as he continued to sink slowly, almost painfully, into me. It was almost too much, too tight, too pleasurable, too close and smothering that I nearly felt drunk by the mere presence of him and the press of his flesh against mine. I arched reflexively, gasping as my movement pushed the final few inches of him firmly inside me. Damn near panting, I opened my eyes and felt my entire skin shiver with pleasure. His green eyes, bright with lust, looked down from above me, his entire hard length was buried inside me, and his strong hands gripped my hips. It was everything I wanted right now, everything I had thought it could be.

Moaning nearly loud enough to match mine, Trent began to pull himself just as slowly out of me. His grip on my hips tightened almost painfully as he fought to keep control of his agonizingly deliberate thrusts. I loved it, the weight of him atop me, pinning me down as he penetrated me with unrelentingly deliberate care; it was amazing, but I waited, wanting more, wanting him to push this further, to push me.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. He was being so careful; I really hadn't expected this from Trent of all people. Sure, I knew Trent could be gentle and charming, as he had been most of the evening and night, but I always saw him as more demanding, more…well, more of a prick. Though he certainly had plenty in the prick department, that he was using it so carefully was a pleasant surprise, but I wanted to do more. I wanted to lose control, I wanted to see Trent lose control.

Trent froze, and I cringed inside, thinking it was unnerving to hear your lover laugh at such a moment. Before he could take it the wrong way, my hand reached up and stroked his cheek before turning his face back towards mine. "I'm not made of glass, Trent," I said gently, and moved my hips underneath him, demonstrating the pace I wanted.

Trent moaned but still held himself painfully still. "I didn't want to rush this."

"I think we've already rushed this," I said with a grin, and captured his lips again with my own before he could argue. His mouth pressed as roughly against mine, and I cried out against his lips as he shoved his cock into me, withdrawing almost as quickly, practically forcing his body in and out of mine, setting a demanding, frantic pace that was exactly what I wanted.

Trent thrusted furiously into me, and already he had me on edge. My whole body was alight and waiting as the sweet pressure between my legs build almost intolerably, but with a grunt, something a mix of pleasure and torment, he slowed his pace. He smiled down at me, fixating on the shifting looks of bliss and desperation that were flickering across my face as his apt fingers brushed lightly over my clitoris, teasing and toying with me as he slowed his thrusts to match the tentative movements of his fingers stroking me. Each touch, each stroke, left me gasping and writhing underneath him, but he was truly taking me at my word and soon his hips were thrusting quicker, no longer lingering inside me but pulling in and out quick enough to leave my mind reeling and my nails firmly digging into the small of his back. His fingers rubbing my clitoris began to match the pace of his hips, flicking across me nearly in time with the pounding of his hips, the thud of his flesh against mine. I knew I was damn near screaming now and had the presence of mind to hope the walls were well insulated. My nails dug in hard enough to draw blood as I held onto him as if for dear life. The promising pressure that had been building between my legs, making every inch of skin shudder and ache for release, finally reached its apex, and I screamed for real as climax tore through my body, making me feel skinless and liquid at once and burning every nerve and sensation with insurmountable pleasure as I bucked my hips wildly against his to grasp every last iota of feeling. Trent yelled out above me, shoving himself even harder inside me. Both of us had our eyes open, and we looked at each as such sweet, razor-edged pleasure seized our bodies, knowing despite our difference we had given it to one another, were sharing it with each other.

I felt limp, boneless, as the pleasure gradually attenuated from every single aroused nerve throughout my body. Trent's head fell to rest on my shoulder as the movements of his hips finally slowed then ceased, his face buried in my red curls and his deep breaths slightly stirring my hair and tickling my ear. My hands smoothed along the small of this back, rubbing gently and trying to erase the angry welts I had raised there.

"Told you so," he said so softly I wasn't sure at first that I heard him correctly.

"Told me what?" I asked, letting my nails run along his skin once again to add the threat that wasn't in my utterly satisfied and somewhat sleepy voice.

"Told you we'd be good together," he said, and I couldn't help but laugh. Trent turned his face towards mine and gave me a genuine, though somewhat sleepy, smile. I smile back and brushed my lips against his. Understandably, I had no trouble falling asleep this time.

_Next chapter I promise something for the Ravy fans. FFM kind of but not really…_

_But the new bet is how many months do you think it will take me to write the next chapter? :P_

_Remember, reviews are love (and will help me write the next chapter faster...)_


	5. Continuation

_Sorry, short chapter. Seriously trying to figure out where I need this story to go…reviews, comments, critiques always appreciated_

_--_

I was dreaming of silken hair and pale, perfect skin. I had wanted to touch this skin, this person, for so long, but I'd been afraid. We both had. But now I could, and I ran my hands so slowly over the perfect limbs, grasping playfully at the long pianist's fingers. Those hands that were so soft yet unbelievably strong, I planted gentle, lingering kisses on each finger and sighed when the hand rose to cup my face. I had always thought Ivy had beautiful hands. I had even wanted her, yearned for her to let me touch them and for her to caress me with them, but usually we were too cautious around one another, too frightened the slightest wrong move would send the other running off.

"Rachel?" I heard a voice ask, and I was confused for a moment by the voice until that perfect hand stroked my cheek gently, banishing all of my doubts. I could envision the delicious thrill it would send through my body if only she went lower and dared to brush up against my demon scar. I flicked my tongue out against her palm, tasty the sweetness of her lotion, the slight saltiness of her skin, and the perfect blend of incense and citrus that would forever mean Ivy to me.

"Naughty witch," Ivy teased me in my dream in a voice that didn't seem her own. I knew it was only a dream, but the feel of that hand, the warmth of her breath against my ear, moving lower, touching, stirring me, it all felt so real that I didn't care as long as it didn't end too soon.

I sighed, reveling in the feeling of two hands traveling down my body, brushing over my breasts, down my sides and across my taut belly before stroking the inside of my thighs. I grasped the silken sheets in my hands and a strangely masculine voice chuckled. I looked up at Ivy's warm brown eyes safely containing the darkness of her pupils, seeking reassurances as those hands parted my legs and began exploring, caressing my more sensitive places. Finally, after all this time, we were breaking down the barriers we had reinforced to maintain a false sense of security. Finally we could be with each other as we were meant to be, without my fear and Ivy's insecurity holding us back.

"Oh, Ivy," I moaned as a finger slid inside me.

"Ivy?" Trent's voice asked in disbelief.

My beautiful dream disappeared in a rustle of silken sheets and the fading scent of fresh leaves. Within moments I was back asleep, seeking other dreams to warm the cold spot Ivy's sudden departure had left by my side.

--

I woke earlier than is normal for a witch, but despite this and the grueling nature of yesterday I felt fully rested. I turned over in bed, curious for a moment as to where I was before the night's events came back to my still drowsy mind. I looked on either side of me, wondering why I was alone. But then, elves got up obscenely early like humans. So I could hardly expect Trent to waste half his morning waiting for me to emerge from the sleep of the dead.

I sighed, feeling more content than I had in weeks despite my missing partner in crime. I rolled on my back and spread out, enjoying the silken cool of the sheets on my skin and the sweet almost aching feeling that was common after one exercises previously ignored muscles or after a night of vigorous sex…or both.

I could have lounged around in bed easily until noon, but my stomach growled to remind me of all the energy I had burned since dinner. I crawled out of bed, pulling aside sheets and glancing under the bed to find all the pieces of my pajamas. Some of Trent's clothes were still scattered about and I picked those up as well and folded them on the bed. I wondered if he would be coming back soon and if I should wait to bathe since it would be so much more fun with a shower buddy. Eventually my longing to try out the jacuzzi-tub won out and I had to relax in the scented hot water and let the jets tickle my feet all by my lonesome self.

Afterwards, back in my only-slightly wrinkled pajamas and the matching robe I had found in the bathroom, I stepped outside the guest room. It was past nine, yet I couldn't hear any noises one would usually associate with a diurnal household. The stillness was disconcerting, but then again, I didn't know how many people actually hung around Trent's compound. I knew Quen had rooms, I assumed the bastard Jon did as well…maybe Maggie too? How many other servants or Trent's security thugs…I mean bodyguards were around enough to have rooms of their own? The man had more lackeys at his disposal than I wanted to count, but even outside my room and in the hallway there was nothing but silence. I couldn't help but feel a tad bit nervous as I made my way towards the main room.

I had to bite down on my tongue to stop from screaming when I practically ran into Quen. The older scarred man looked at me curiously and I was about to assault him with questions and curses when Jonathan came into view around the corner. The freakishly tall elf and I had never gotten along since I had no intention to forgive him for torturing me the days I had spent as a mink in Trent's office. Before I could even form the appropriate greeting for my nemesis, Quen's slight laughter interrupted.

"It's about time," Quen said, taking me in from head to toe and trying to regain a straight face.

"Witches get up later," I snapped, not realizing I was completely missing his meaning.

Quen only smiled and held his hand out expectantly to Jonathan.

"Her being here doesn't prove a thing," Jon said with a sneer as he took in my borrowed pajamas and wet hair with utmost dislike.

"Rachel, I trust you rested well?" Quen asked with seemingly authentic concern, but the rakish smile on his face still had me on edge.

"Yeah, I slept fine," I replied cautiously.

"And did Trenton rest tranquilly as well last night?" Quen asked, and suddenly I understood his smile and knowing tone.

It felt like litters of blood had rushed to my face, a response that was not lost on either Quen or Jonathan. "That's none of your damn business!" I shouted, trying to cover up my embarrassment with indignation.

"Yes actually it is, especially because you had me slightly worried that I might lose," Quen said with a more genuine grin on his face.

"It doesn't prove anything," Jonathan nearly shouted, his face pale with barely suppressed rage.

"Morgan wouldn't be so quick to anger if it didn't" Quen countered.

"Lose?" I asked, my anger and embarrassment subsiding into perplexity. Quen silently extended his hand again to Jonathan who pulled out his wallet. Still glaring daggers at me, he dug out quite a few bills which he reluctantly handed over to Quen.

Finally I understood and felt heat rush once again to my face. "You two bet on us hooking up?!" I shouted, no longer feeling awkward now that I had something to be pissed about.

"No, I bet on _you_, and I won." Quen corrected me

Not sure if I should be laughing or beating them both up, I pushed past them both and continued down hall and finally after a few minutes of worrying that I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere, emerged back into the great room that made up Trent's living room, entertaining space, and most importantly, dining room.

I had been scanning the space eagerly and a slight sigh escaped me when I saw Trent at the table with his tea and a newspaper. Trying to fight down the sudden nervousness I felt, I approached him, wondering just how I…we would manage now that our relationship had changed so utterly.


End file.
